The Seeds of Change

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I hope so. There’s safety in numbers.”

  “True. But probably not as much peace. As I fell asleep, I felt such a sense of peace, as if God was surrounding us with angels.”

  “Thank you, I was concerned that . . .” Lark shook her head, a sudden lump in her throat. “Let’s just say God used you to answer my prayers this morning.”

  “Where’s Sythia?”

  Forsythia heard Lilac’s question from her pallet inside the wagon. It was dawn on their fourth day, and Forsythia felt wretched.

  “I don’t know. I saw her head to the creek a bit ago. Del?”

  “Did you check the wagon?” Del suggested, and Forsythia groaned.

  Lilac found her wrapped in a quilt and huddled in the rear corner. “What’s wrong, Sythia?”

  “Just leave me alone, okay? I’ll be better by tomorrow.” Please go away. Forsythia always longed for her mother’s comfort when her cycle arrived with miserable cramps and a headache. It didn’t happen every month but often enough to make her dread it.

  “I’ll bring you a hot rock.” Lilac disappeared.

  Oh, I wish I were back home. Even though Ma had gone on to heaven, so she could no longer bring tea and a comforting hand, Forsythia could still have made a cup of ginger tea to help relax the cramping. Sometimes her mother would read to her from her well-worn Bible, and then they would talk about the blessings God was sending down. Ma called times like this the curse of Eve, something she had also suffered.

  “But be encouraged. After I had my first baby, I no longer had the monthly curse, at least not the cramping. So you can look forward to that.”

  Forsythia jerked back to reality when Lilac returned and handed her a hot rock wrapped in a small blanket. “Thank you.”

  “I can’t find the herbs, though I know we packed them, or I’d make Ma’s tea for you.”

  “You’re so like our ma.” Forsythia nestled the warmth against her lower belly. I want to go home. Tears leaked over her cheeks. I didn’t want to come on this trip. All because Lark couldn’t keep from saving Jonah’s hide one more time.

  “You want some breakfast?” Lilac asked.

  “No, thanks.” Forsythia bit back a groan. She could hear the others clattering about outside but tried to ignore them.

  “Lilac, let her come and get her own breakfast,” Lark called.

  Lilac turned toward the opening at the back of the wagon. “But you know Forsythia struggles—”

  “No, she just gives in. Ma always babied her. It’s time she grew up and . . .”

  Forsythia curled into a tighter ball, hurt pinching her throat on top of the cramping.

  Lilac propped her hands on her hips. “Just because you don’t—”

  Lark snorted in disgust. “Let’s just get on the road. Forsythia will be all right by tomorrow.”

  “She was supposed to drive today,” Del snapped back.

  “You can drive, Lilac can ride, and I’ll walk.”

  “I planned on knitting. We’re going to need warmer winter things where we’re going.” Del often knitted as she strode along and still managed to keep from stumbling.

  “One more day won’t make a big difference.” Lark’s voice came out gruff, as if she really were a man. “Just calm down and—”

  “Me calm down? Have you listened to yourself? Why don’t you just go hunting?” Del must have slammed the coffee jug back into the lidded cooking box outside the wagon by the sound.

  “Just stop it. I’ll drive today.” That was Lilac.

  “Fine,” Lark snapped. Forsythia heard the creak of the saddle and then the sound of Starbright’s hooves loping down the road.

  Forsythia groaned and cuddled closer to the hot rock. This was their first big fight. It would probably not be their last.

  She dozed for a while. When she awoke, the rock was only warm and so of little use. Why am I the only one who suffers so? Perhaps walking would help.

  She asked Lilac to stop the oxen for a moment and clambered out, then walked beside Del, breathing in the morning air. The sunshine warmed her muscles, easing the cramping.

  The sun was past the zenith when they reached a creek. Still no Lark.

  “Let’s rest and lunch here—nooning, I think they call it,” Del said.

  They unhitched the oxen, then Lilac unyoked one ox from each pair and re-yoked them facing the other direction, a trick learned from Mr. Holt. That way the animals could graze in a circle around each other but not wander too far.

  Forsythia dug in the food box and handed a biscuit to each of her sisters. “What if something happens to Lark? How will we know?”

  “We just go forward until we find a good place to camp and trust that she’s all right.”

  Del spoke so reasonably that Forsythia felt almost foolish in raising the concern. But what if . . . ? Her mind flitted around, seeing her sister with a broken leg or arm, unable to get on the horse. What if she never shows up again? What do we do? No matter how disgusted Forsythia was with Lark’s saving their little brother yet again, or the hurt of her words this morning, the thought of life with no Larkspur was nearly as bad as when Ma died.

  She kept pace with the plodding oxen as they continued down the road. Lord, your Word says you are our strength and our shield. You know every breath we take and every step we make. You are our rock and our redeemer. Her mind slipped into song.

  “‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee . . .’”

  The sun had started its downhill slide when she saw a horse and rider coming toward them. “Lark. Thank you, Lord God, you kept her and us safe.”

  Their sister stopped a ways ahead and waited for them. What did she have hanging from the saddle?

  As they drew nearer, Lark reined the horse around and rode beside Forsythia. “Sorry I took so long, but I shot a deer, and I knew it would rot before we could eat it all. There’s a hamlet with a store nearby, so I kept a rear quarter and traded the rest for some supplies. Tonight we’ll have venison steaks along with bread and cheese and rice. Even eggs for breakfast. We’ll dry as much of the venison as we can. I’m thinking we might stay an extra day to finish that. There’s a good place to camp a mile or two ahead.”

  “We were worried about you, that you’d gotten hurt or something.” Lilac glared at her.

  “Sorry, but had I brought the whole carcass here . . .” She blew out a sigh. “It was a difficult decision, but I figured it was for the best.”

  When they arrived at the spot she had found, they set up camp as usual but made a longer fire. Lark used the tailgate as a table and sliced four slabs of meat to fry for supper.

  “How will we dry the meat?” Forsythia asked.

  “I saw a picture that showed Indians weaving thin slices of meat on sticks and setting them to hold over the coals. We’ll need lots of coals. We’ll cut willow sticks and sharpen the points. One end for the meat, and one to stab into the ground.”

  Lark and Lilac took knives to cut from a thicket up the creek a ways. When they returned, the steaks were sizzling in the frying pan, and Del had sliced most of the rest as thinly as possible. “We can boil most of the rest, so we should have several good meals besides the smoked and dried pieces.”

  Lark squeezed Forsythia’s shoulder as she passed. “Feeling better?”

  Forsythia nodded and felt the worry band around her chest loosen. They were back to working as the team they had been raised to be. Thank you, Lord.

  Forsythia had the middle watch that night, as it was Del’s turn to sleep through. She sang to herself to keep awake, checked the fire and the meat, and walked out to where the oxen lay, chewing their cuds. Starbright nuzzled her, hoping for the sugar treat she used to get.

  “Sorry, girl. No more sugar lumps. No more cookies. We had it pretty easy at home, though we didn’t realize it.”

  The mare nickered softly as Forsythia moved away. She sat on the hunk of applewood they’d brought along, a piece of home. Poking the fire with a stick sent s
parks rising, like lightning bugs dancing in the dark. With no moon yet, the dark was so dense that she felt closed in until she looked up at the stars God had strewn across the sky. “Lord, all this you created, and yet you love me and ask me to spend time with you. How can I be so blessed? And thank you, the misery is gone.”

  She got up to put more wood on the fire. May my praises rise to you as the sparks fly upward. She heard the flap of wings and hoot of an owl. Some critters rustled in the brush. How easy it would be to let fear take over. She used to be afraid of the dark, but her father would take his girls outside at night to learn about the stars and the birds and animals that hunted and moved around during the wee hours.

  “What do you think, Pa, of your daughters heading west like this? Ma never wanted to leave her home. She wanted us all to marry good men and bring her grandchildren to love and enjoy. I can see her loving our children, like she did those at church when we no longer needed to be held and rocked and sang to.” She poked the fire again. “Lord God, I want to be like my mother.” And her father. She was so thankful Lilac had brought some journals after all. One of these days she’d read through them.

  The next day, when it was her turn to ride in the wagon, Forsythia lifted the guitar off the hook on one of the hoops and tuned it, then picked out a tune. Lively or poignant, the music lifted their hearts along with their voices. As usual, they slipped into harmonizing as naturally as breathing. They sang songs that made them giggle and others that drew tears. “Arkansas Traveler,” “Beautiful Dreamer,” “In the Sweet By and By,” and “Fairest Lord Jesus.”

  “Beautiful Savior! Lord of all the nations!

  Son of God and Son of Man!

  Glory and honor, praise, adoration,

  Now and forever more be thine.”

  When Forsythia strummed the final chord, she wasn’t the only one wiping her eyes.

  “Thank you, Sythia, that was lovely. Perhaps one of these evenings we can bring out the fiddle and mouth organ.” Del clasped her hands in her lap as she sat astride Starbright.

  “Makes me even more homesick.” Lilac blinked and wiped her eyes. She flopped her sunbonnet over her shoulders to let the teasing breeze play with her hair. “You think Pa and Ma are up in heaven, looking down on us?”

  “And wondering why we ever left home.”

  “I think Pa would have wanted to head west. He was so sick of all the division that was happening with the war, he wanted to go someplace where that wasn’t a problem. As if that were possible.”

  Del stopped the horse and dismounted. “Come on, Lilac, you ride Starbright awhile. That always makes you feel better.”

  They waved at a family in a wagon going the same direction, but much faster, who pulled out around them. The two boys in the back waved and whistled.

  “Where ya goin’?” one hollered.

  “West,” Lark answered.

  “To California to find gold?”

  The younger boy chimed in. “That’s where I’d go. Maybe when we get older.”

  “The gold will all be mined out by the time we get that big.” The older boy punched his brother’s arm. The younger punched him back, and they almost tumbled out of the wagon as they scrapped.

  “They remind me of Jonah, but he didn’t have a brother that close to his age,” Forsythia said.

  “So he teased me.” Lilac shook her head. “And I played with him the most.” Their mother had often reprimanded her youngest daughter for her unladylike behavior. “I remember wishing I could wear pants like Jonah did. I didn’t think it fair then, and I still don’t.” She rode up next to Lark. “Are pants easier than skirts?”

  “Easier? Indeed. But wool pants scratch the insides of your legs. Mighty uncomfortable.” Lark took off her hat and wiped the sweat from her forehead, then put it back on. “I like this hat better’n sunbonnets too.”

  “If I had my way, I’d wear a wide-brimmed hat like yours but made of straw. Let the air in better.” Lilac untied her sunbonnet and hooked it over the saddle horn. “Any idea how close we are to Columbus? We can pick up the National Road there, and that’ll take us to Independence.”

  “I’ll ask at the next town. I’ve been thinkin’. I hate to go through towns all together, just in case Deacon Wiesel or Ringwald come looking for us. So I figure you can head north and circle around the town, and that way we won’t have a horse along either. Sythia, you huddle down in the wagon under a blanket. Then we’ll just be a man and his wife heading west. I’ll stop and chat if necessary. All agree?”

  Lilac stared at her eldest sister. “You amaze me. I’d have never thought about things like that at all.”

  When they approached the village where Lark had traded the venison, they put her plan into action. Within a short while, they relaxed on the other side of the town. No one had noticed them or paid attention. Forsythia folded up the blanket and climbed out of the back of the wagon.

  “That was getting plenty hot.” She pushed her sunbonnet off her head and let it hang down her back. “Ah, that breeze is a gift. You think the gambler would really ride west after us?” Just the thought of someone trailing them made her shudder.

  “I have no idea. He seemed mighty prosperous, and the only one of us who might know is back home. And if ever I hear he’s been back to the saloon, I swear . . .”

  Assuming they ever saw their brothers again in this life.

  7

  The days fell into a pattern as they plodded south and west. Their plan to join up with a western-bound wagon train at times seemed beyond reach. How late they had started pressed on Lark’s shoulders. Late May already, and wagon trains started heading west in late April, from what she understood. Was it foolhardy to think they could reach Independence before all the wagon trains had left?

  One night when they had finished eating and were sitting around the fire, Del stopped digging a stick into the dirt and looked around at her sisters. “What if we asked around if there are any places for sale in some appealing spot on the way to Independence? I mean, we’ve not bought land or committed to living in Nebraska.”

  “What if Ringwald is tracking us? We’re only a couple hundred miles from home.” Lark shook her head. “We’ll ask at the post office in Columbus if there is a letter from Anders. He and I decided he’d send it to the Jimson family. That way if the gambler comes lookin’, there’ll be no trace of us.”

  Forsythia looked up from her mending. “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”

  “He didn’t like losing, and that was a lot of money.”

  “Some folks will die to get even. I say we keep going.” Lilac stood. “Let’s play some music.” She returned from the wagon with the guitar and the mouth organ.

  Forsythia took the guitar and tightened the strings. “Give me a C.”

  Lark blew the proper note. When they were tuned together, Forsythia strummed a few chords, and her fingers set to picking. Their mother’s favorite hymn wrapped around them. By the end of “Abide with Me,” they were all wiping their eyes.

  “It makes me miss her all the more.” Lark sniffed. “How about something livelier?”

  Forsythia set her foot tapping, and “Turkey in the Straw” circled the wagon.

  “Now, that was mighty fine.” A male voice came from the trees along the creek.

  Oh, Lord, protect us. Lark played the mouth organ with one hand and picked up the rifle at her side with the other. “You’re welcome to join us.” She made sure to keep her voice low like a man’s.

  Forsythia started picking again, her fingers wandering over “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.”

  “My mama used to sing that ever’ night.”

  “The coffee’s still hot.”

  “I hate to bother you. . . .”

  “No bother.” Lark stared into the dark. Like an apparition, a form separated from a tree and shuffled into the firelight. “I’d appreciate it if you leave your gun behind.”

  “Not loaded. No shells.”

  She ra
ised hers. “Just lay it down, then.”

  He slowly did as she said and stood again. “Your music woke me up. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  “You live around here?”

  “No, I’m on my way home.”

  “From the war?”

  He nodded.

  Lilac shifted beside Lark and whispered, “Can I pour him some coffee?”

  Lark nodded. “How long since you’ve eaten?”

  “I got a squirrel yesterday. Last of my ammunition.”

  Del stood and moved to the wagon. “Our biscuits are like rocks, but they’re filling.”

  “I didn’t come for food. Just wanted to tell you thanks for the music.” He took the cup Lilac handed him. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Sit a spell,” Lark said. Lord, please keep me from making a mistake here. Set up a hedge of protection around us.

  He crossed his legs and lowered himself to the ground on the other side of the fire, dipping the biscuit in his coffee. “Thank you.”

  He has manners and that softness of speech, neither north nor south. Who is he under all that grime, both body and clothes near worn out? Lark studied him from under her hat brim. Scruffy beard, army uniform so old you couldn’t even tell which side it was from.

  “Where’s home?” she finally asked.

  “We had a fine farm in West Virginia, but there’s nothin’ left of it. A neighbor said one side or the other burned it to the ground. I think my folks died of broken hearts at all the carnage. My younger sister married a man from Illinois, and no one had heard from her since. My two brothers both died in the battles, one in blue and one in gray. I have no idea where my older sister is. A mining company had taken over the land by the time I got back. I was the firstborn and spent the last months of the war in a prison camp. Thought I would never live through that. But when they opened the gates, I staggered out and headed for home.”

  “To find nothing there.” How horrible that would be. Lark knew about prison camps, having rescued her older brother from one. But this was not the time to bring that up.

  “So where you bound for now?” Lilac asked.